Saturday, October 11, 2014

The thoughtful amongst you might think that
this serene picture is one of a poet out for a walk in the woods in search of inspiration,
at one with nature, in touch with his inner soul. But think again discerning
readers, look again! This picture has a far more chilling undercurrent to it
than what seems apparent on its warm, dappled surface; clutch your hearts and hold your
breath, this here is a picture of a hunter, the most lethal of them all – A Mushroom
Hunter.
Before I detect the slightest smirk on your faces allow me make my point. Hunters
of wild beasts saunter around the jungle with large guns and upon sighting prey
in the distance, merely lift their guns and pull a trigger, BANG, the prey
staggers and dies, the hunter walks up to the bloody carcass, takes a selfie
with her foot on the body, drags it over to the jeep and drives away. Yawn. Anybody
can do that. It is The Mushroom Hunter who is far more dangerous. One moment he
is merrily driving along peaceful country roads chatting about graphic novels and
ground coffee and the next moment he screeches the car to a halt much to the
surprise and consternation of his passengers, “Good heavens! Is something
wrong? Why did he stop?” And that is the instant when you see a Mushroom Hunter
in action. He darts across the road to an empty field, unsheaths his sharp, special
mushroom dagger, swoops down with a yowl of delight on helpless, quivering
little shaggymane mushrooms huddled together, swiftly chops off their heads and
places them in his trophy basket. If that isn't chilling enough there’s more mind you! A mere walk in autumn
woods is fraught with action. You might have had a meditative
stroll in mind, that moment of getting in touch with your Shakti that your Guru
so recommended, that you were so eager to experience, you are admiring the colors
of the trillion, zillion autumn leaves on the forest floor, you are just about
to attain nirvana through peace and happiness when the Mushroom Hunter
screeches to a halt before you and plunges his dagger into gazillion leaves on the ground and comes up with a teeny weeny quivering mushroom which he is
ecstatic about and which he holds aloft before your bewildered eyes. “See? See!”
And then as you sit trembling in recovery at the dining table, these mushrooms
are fried in butter and brought before you to be eaten. No blood and gore of
animal killers mind you, just swift, lethal, ruthless decapitation and dinner. Takes nerve to be the guest of A Mushroom Hunter I tell you. Phew!

Thursday, October 9, 2014

A
weekend with friends in Sutton
A constant downpour of nature
An endless overflow of all of life’s good things
How does one process so much beauty?
How can one truly give thanks for this much blessing?
I am not yet ready to know how to make my palette retell this abundance of new colors and emotions.